


A Dream is a Wish

by DeereReaderGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeereReaderGirl/pseuds/DeereReaderGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the seventh book. Hermione has been having strange dreams for a while now and she doesn't know how to deal with them. Draco has been having strange dreams too. Could there be a connection? Hermione is preparing for her final year at Hogwarts and has been chosen as Head Girl. Draco is dealing with the past and dreading what's to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His lips were warm on hers.  He nipped her bottom lip and she gasped into his mouth, giving him just the opportunity he needed; his tongue slipped into her mouth and he pulled her body tighter against his.  She could feel his heart beating erratically, and knew that he could feel hers, too.  He backed her up until she felt the wall against her back.  His lips moved from her mouth to her cheek, and finally to her neck, his stubble scratching her skin caused a surprisingly pleasant sensation.  His hands pulled her closer, and it seemed that she would never be close enough for him.  As his lips moved across her skin, she slid her hands from his hair and ran them down his chest, to his sides, before she met the end of his shirt and the top of his jeans and slipped her hands up under his shirt and felt the taunt muscles of his back tremble as she ran her fingers over them. 

“Hermione,” he rasped, pulling away for a moment to look her in her face.

Draco had never looked more handsome as he did right then; his silver eyes bright, skin flushed, hair and clothes disheveled.

_Draco?!_

Hermione gasped, and shot straight up in bed, panting and covered in sweat.  Why on earth had she been dreaming about Draco?  She was dating Ron, she should be dreaming about him, not some snotty git.  Hermione leaned back slowly, praying she hadn’t woken Ginny, until her head was resting against her pillow again.  She stared at the ceiling, and counted to ten, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. 

If she was being honest with herself, she’d been dreaming about Draco Malfoy for the past two years on and off, but since the war ended, he’d been haunting her dreams every night.  It had been months and Hermione still found no way to block the dreams.  She tried willing herself to dream about something, anything else before she went to sleep, but her mind would not cooperate.  She had even studied different books hoping for some explanation as to why she had these reoccurring dreams, or even some spell or potion to stop her from having the dreams, but each search yielded nothing of value. 

Every time Hermione woke from her Draco dreams, she couldn’t help but think of that stupid line from one of the songs in _Cinderella_ , “A dream is a wish your heart makes.”  Right.  Like Hermione’s heart was wishing that she could kiss Draco, that she and Draco could be together.  Hermione snorted, then quickly looked across the room where Ginny lay sleeping, making sure that she hadn’t woken her.  More often than she would like to admit, Hermione startling awake from her dreams, not nightmares, had woken Ginny.  Everyone that fought in the war had PTSD, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to suffer from nightmares.  Hermione also suffered from nightmares in addition to her Draco dreams, but she hated always passing them off as an effect of the PTSD.  Hermione was starting to think that Ginny could tell when she was lying about her nightmares and when she was being truthful.  After the war, the Weasleys had taken her and Harry in.  It wasn’t like she could ever go home to her own parents again, seeing as how they couldn’t remember her; and since the Dursleys had moved and Harry had no desire to ever see them again, the arrangement seemed ideal. 

She had never liked lying, and she felt guilty lying to Ginny about her dreams—one, because Ginny had proved to be one of her most true and loyal friends, and two, because she was dating Ron.  She had been pining after Ron for years, and they were finally together, and now her stupid brain was making her fantasize about Malfoy.  Even though they were just dreams, Hermione felt like she was doing something wrong.

“Urgh!  Come on, Hermione!  Pull yourself together!” she quietly berated herself.  She vowed to herself that she was _not_ going to let these dreams about Draco bother her anymore.  Besides, she should be focusing on locating her parents and lifting the memory enchantment, not dreaming about making out with Malfoy!  They were just dreams.  What was it that Harry told them Dumbledore had said to him about dreams?  Right.  “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”  _So help me_ , Hermione thought, _even if I have to start taking medication to help me calm down and sleep, I will sleep and it will be peacefully.  I won’t dream about Malfoy again!_   Finally, she was able to calm the turmoil and stress inside of her and she fell asleep.

///

Draco stared up at his ceiling, and groaned.  His pulse was racing and he was breathing so hard he felt as if he’d just had to run from the dungeons to the astronomy tower at full tilt.  The dreams were agonizing.  He knew Hermione didn’t want him, but his dreams seemed so substantial, so real.  He rolled off his bed, and started pacing around his room.  He knew he’d brought this on himself.  If he hadn’t been such a jerk, calling her a mudblood, tormenting her, and taking every opportunity to make her miserable. . . then maybe someday, he could have had a chance. 

Draco raked a hand through his hair and thought back to third year.  Granger, though still bookish and annoying, had started to become attractive to him.  The incident that really cinched his attraction to her was when she punched him.  He remembered being angry, but also shocked and rather impressed.  None of his peers had ever put him in his place before, but she had full on socked him in the face, and he couldn’t help but respect her after that.  He wished he had courage like that when it came to his father.  If only he could stand up to Lucius and let him know that he wasn’t going to take abuse anymore.  He spent the year after that trying to come to grips with his attraction to someone whole belonged to a class that he was raised to believe was unworthy and below him.  He had still harassed her at school and still been cruel, in an attempt to squelch his feelings for her; but he quickly realized his efforts were all for naught and eventually gave up.  Finally, he had begun ignoring her at school to save face, but when he was home, and especially around his father, he made out like he hated her and everyone like her, but he had already begun to see that perhaps his parents were wrong.  Maybe purebloods weren’t superior, maybe no one was superior. 

With a sigh, he crawled back into his bed and covered his face with both hands before dragging them down his face.  Just once, he’d like to go to sleep and not be plagued my dreams of Hermione or nightmares of the war.  He was generally pretty moody to begin with, which typically translated to anger, but he was losing too much sleep over this, and it was making him crabbier than ever.  More than anything, he didn’t want to turn out like his father.  He didn’t want to be abusive.  He was terrified that one day he would go from using his words to hurt people to using his hands, or worse, like his father. . .magic.  Draco shuddered at the thought of all the spells his father had used to “discipline” him.  Each day, he struggled to keep himself in check, but with the lack of sleep it was getting worse.  He had never been more thankful that it was summer so he could shut himself up in his room and not have to interact with people.  Part of him was thrilled that school would be starting soon, he would be around friends again, and he’d get to see Hermione, but part of him was scared that maybe this year he would take his tormenting too far.  That he would snap.  He knew he should ask his mother for help.  Surely, she would know of some tonic or elixir he could take that would take the edge off of his aggravation, but he wanted to beat this on his own.  He didn’t want to have to medicate to control himself, he wanted to have a strong enough will that it wouldn’t even be an issue.  Draco resolved to ask his mother for help if he got any worse, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.  Draco finally fell into a fitful sleep that was sure to leave him even more exhausted in the morning, but thankfully this time he slept without dreaming.

///

Light was pouring in through the windows by the time Hermione woke up.  She rolled on her side and saw that Ginny’s bed was empty.  Hermione groaned and buried her head in her pillow.  Just how late had she slept today?  Blindly reaching around, Hermione’s fingers grazed her watch on the nightstand.  Groggily, she dragged the watch onto the bed a lifted her face to see what time it was.  Hermione could only groan when she saw that she’d slept in until ten.  _Well there goes most of my day down the drain,_ she thought.  She rolled off her bed and stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead.  After a quick shower, Hermione put on her favorite blue jeans and a comfortable Henley tee.  Once she was fully clothed, she brushed out her hair and braided it before brushing her teeth and heading downstairs. 

As Hermione padded, down the steps, she thought about the approaching school year.  She was absolutely thrilled that McGonagall had become Headmistress and was allowing everyone to make up last year at Hogwarts.  Hermione pondered how the teachers would be able to handle a doubled group of first years and a double group of seventh years, but was drawn out of her reverie when she entered the kitchen of the Burrow.  Everyone was sitting around the table chattering, with the exception of Molly, who was bustling around the kitchen as per usual.  George was the first to notice her coming down the stairs, because he had been staring off into space in the direction of the stairs.  George had been doing less laughing since Fred died, but Hermione could only imagine how it must feel to have your counterpart suddenly ripped from your life, as if they had never been there at all.                      

“Well look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!” George drawled, with a smirk and, surprisingly, a joking tone of voice. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she answered, rolling her eyes.  “I slept in this one time.  So sue me.”

George smirked at her and she grinned back.  It was good to see some of the old George resurfacing.  She gazed around at the table until she saw an open seat between Harry and Ron.  Slowly, she worked her way around the table and scrunched in between her two best friends and was pleased to see that there was still food on the table.  _Who am I kidding?  There is always food on Molly Weasley’s table_ , she thought fondly.  Hermione heaped eggs and sausage on her plate and dug in, listening to the conversations around her.  George was talking to Mr. Weasley about rebuilding business at the joke shop, Harry and Ginny were discussing Quidditch, and Ron being Ron was stuffing his face as usual.  She stared at Ron and a slight grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.  She’d spent the last few years of her life longing for Ron, and things were finally going how she hoped they would.  Ron suddenly looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow at her before grinning with his lips pinched tightly together.  Hermione blushed and looked down at her plate, bashfully.  She could feel her cheeks warming as she blushed, and she felt ridiculous.  She’d kissed Ron and now she felt bashful looking at him?  Was that even normal?  _Oh, bother!  What was normal, anyway?_ Hermione mused.

She had just picked up her fork to dig in to her eggs when there was a thunk and a screech.  Everyone’s heads shot up and they swung around to face the window.  Errol had missed the open window again.  Mrs. Weasley bustled over to the window and reached out to grab the clumsy owl and drag him in.  Over the years, with Errol constantly crashing into things, the twins had revamped an old window box into an “owl catcher” so that when Errol inevitably hit the window and fell that it would be easier for people to collect him and bring him inside.  When Mrs. Weasley got Errol through the window, they could see a bundle of letters in his grip.  She yanked the bundle of letters away from him, set him in the owl catcher, and gave him some toast.  Molly passed out the letters to their respective owners. 

Hermione felt excitement flare up inside her as she opened her letter.  She was getting one more year of education.  One more year of Hogwarts.  One more year of home.  As much as she loved living with the Weasleys, it never felt like home.  Not even living with her parents felt like home as much as Hogwarts did.  When she pulled the letter from the envelope, a pin fell out into her lap.  She stared down at the pin quizzically, and gently lifted it from her lap.  She flipped it over and couldn’t help but squeal when she read what the pin said:  Head Girl.  Everyone startled at her squeal.

“What is it dear?”  Molly inquired.

“Head Girl.  Head Girl!  I’m Head Girl!” Hermione crooned.

Ron and Harry beamed with pride, knowing how Hermione had been dying to be Head Girl.  Those around her congratulated her and she thanked them absentmindedly as she read her letter.  The letter detailed what her classes were, what books she would need, what some of her responsibilities as Head Girl would be, and who the new professors were and what they would be teaching.  Apparently, a Professor Doyal would be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts, and a Professor Towne would be taking over History of Magic, since it seemed that Professor Binns had decided that reliving history wasn’t as fulfilling as it had been when he started.  Hermione was excited about the new professors, and was thrilled to be Head Girl, but she was curious who her counterpart would be.  She was mulling over the possible candidates for Head Boy when she heard Harry quietly utter an, “Excellent!”  Upon further inquiry, she learned that he had been chosen as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain again.  Everyone around the table seemed to have some bit of good news.  Molly received word that little Teddy Lupin was starting to walk around and change his hair color randomly throughout the day.  Mr. Weasley got a raise, and Ginny and Ron were both chosen as Prefects.  This was shaping up to be a wonderful school year as far as Hermione was concerned.  There was absolutely nothing that would dampen her excitement or ruin the upcoming school year.  Nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Complete and utter shock.  Draco had never been more surprised in his life.  He knew that a statement had been issued that everyone who had been attending Hogwarts would be able to come back and complete their last year, but he had never dreamt that included him.  He had been fairly sure that when he’d let the Death Eaters and attempted to kill Dumbledore that he would never be welcome at the school again.  Not to mention the school had been in shambles the last time he’d seen it, because of the group of people he was supposed to be a part of.  Was it possible it was still in such awful condition, or had it been restored to its prior glory?

He stared down at the letter in his hand, still sealed in its envelope and drug a shuddering breath into his lungs, squeezing his eyes shut.  He wanted to go back.  He wanted a do over, and he wanted to get back the time that had been stolen from him, but at the same time he was terrified to go.  He was sure the Golden Trio would be there. 

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that at least Hermione would be there, but either way, he wasn’t sure he could face any of them.  What must they think of him?  He knew that lying about who they were had saved their lives, but it couldn’t erase the years of cruelty he’d inflicted upon them.  And really, who was he kidding?  He’d been cruel to anyone and everyone in the school.  Even the people he was closest to had received harsh treatment.  Thoughts of Crabbe flitted through his mind before he could shut off that line of thinking. 

Crabbe had died because of him, and he knew it.  Every day, he all but drowned in the guilt he felt.  Goyle no longer spoke to him and couldn’t stand to be in his presence.  He couldn’t blame Goyle; if it was possible to get away from himself, he would do it in a heartbeat.  It wasn’t enough that he was already scarred because of Lucius, both inside and out, he also bore the mental and emotional scars that came with selling your soul to the devil, and all but murdering one of your best friends.  Though he’d been proud of his pureblood status, he’d never been sure that he actually wanted to be a Death Eater, but that choice had been stolen from him.  He’d been forced into being a Death Eater, and had been forced to play along with all the sick twisted games Lord Voldemort had wanted to play if he wanted to save his parents and himself. 

He could feel the tears beginning to form in his eyes.  He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly and clenched his hands into fists.  A Malfoy didn’t show emotion.  Emotions were for the weak.  He would not cry at breakfast in front of his mother.  There was no way he could put any more strain on her.  He knew things were hard on her.  She was running Malfoy Manor without Lucius, and while he knew she was thrilled to be away from all the abuse, he could tell she hated the absence of her husband.  Abusive or not, she had always loved him.  Against rhyme or reason she had stayed with him.  Sometimes Draco wished that she’d left him; if she had, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to suffer so much abuse.

His thoughts continued their downward spiral until his mother’s clear voice shook him from the dark place he’d sunk into.

“Draco?”  she prodded, tentatively.

His head snapped up and his eyes flew open to stare at her across the table.  She was looking at him questioningly.  He had no doubt that she knew he was struggling, but she wasn’t pushing him. She would never do that; she knew he was too proud to ask for help.

“What is it, dear?” she inquired, nodding her head toward the letter, all but crumpled in his hand.  His eyes flicked downward to it for a moment.  He could tell her it was nothing.  He could lie about what it was, and then he could get out of going.  The very thought made him ill though; Malfoys do not turn and run, tail between their legs.  As much as he dreaded going, he knew he had to tell her.

“It’s a Hogwarts letter, mum,” he muttered thickly.

He looked up from the letter, and registered surprise on her face.  Slowly, a small smile made its way to her lips.

“That’s wonderful, Draco,” she said softly.  “What does it say?” 

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know.  I haven’t opened it yet.”

He knew once he opened that letter there was no going back.  Honestly, since he’d told his mother there was no going back, but opening the letter would make it official.  There was no way Narcissa would let him skip making up his last year at Hogwarts.  He could feel the anxiety he seemed to always carry with him these days rising up in his body.  He knew he could hide it, but it was never comfortable when the anxiety turned into a panic attack.  Thankfully, the only attacks he’d had so far had been small, but they certainly never felt small.  It didn’t feel like a small thing to feel the panic rising like bile up his throat.  It didn’t feel small when the panic wrapped itself around his ribs, making it hard for him to breathe, and he certainly never enjoyed the trembling hands, and sometimes body, the racing heart, and the almost unstoppable urge to cry.

Taking a deep breath, he flipped over the letter and slid his index finger under the flap of the envelope and broke the seal.

///

 

The day after they received their letters, the Weasleys, along with Harry and Hermione, went to Diagon Alley to get what they would need for school.  Hermione had Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Harry and Ron, but otherwise she didn’t have a single class with them.  Having already gone to Gringotts, she set off on her own to get the necessary books, ingredients, and utensils she would need for her upcoming classes.  Hermione meandered down the street, going into the shops she needed and glancing in the windows of the other shops.  As she walked, she daydreamed.  She’d given up on avoiding thinking about her dreams months ago, and found herself reminiscing about the dream she’d had last night.  This dream had been one of the rare few where she hadn’t found herself snogging Malfoy.  Instead of snogging, they’d been talking.  In her dream he was funny, sharp witted, and kind.  She couldn’t help but wonder what Malfoy was like under that superior, haughty front he had.  Maybe, that was all there was to him, but she couldn’t help but think that there had to be more to him than met the eye.  She snorted to herself.  _You only want there to be more to Malfoy so that you don’t feel guilty for being attracted to him_ , she thought sourly to herself. 

Suddenly, the street hushed.  Hermione looked around curiously, and then she saw the reason why.  Malfoy and his mother were coming down the street, ignoring those around them with heads held high.  Narcissa was walking head held high, anyway; Draco was sneering at everyone around him.  _Some things never change_ , Hermione thought, rolling her eyes.  It didn’t matter that they had been pardoned; everyone still looked down on them and felt that they should be locked up along with Lucius.  Hermione found herself wondering how Draco must feel.  His father was in prison, but his mother had been pardoned and he was getting off clean because the Wizengamot had used Harry’s memory of Dumbledore’s death, and all of their memories from being prisoner at Malfoy Manor.  There had been enough evidence to show that perhaps Draco hadn’t been completely willing to be part of the Death Eaters.  From what she could gather, and from what Harry told her, he hadn’t wanted to kill Dumbledore and had even been lowering his wand.  It seemed like he wasn’t so sure about all of Voldemort’s nonsense.  Her thoughts continued to wonder until she ended right back at those ridiculous dreams.  She hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring, until Draco’s piercing eyes suddenly turned to her.  She quickly rushed into the nearest store to avoid Draco.

She hadn’t been planning on getting new robes, but the store she’d thrown herself into was Madame Malkin’s.  She couldn’t understand why she’d run from Malfoy, she’d never backed down before, but it was what it was.  Now that she was in the store, she thought about her robes in her trunk.  Even though she took stellar care of her robes, she knew they were getting a little worn, and since she was Head Girl, she needed to look professional.  Sighing, she walked over to Madame Malkin and asked about a new set of robes.  The little witch was positively delighted to be making robes for Hermione, since she was one of Harry’s friends.  She’d noticed that since Voldemort’s downfall many witches and wizards had been especially nice to Harry, Ron, and herself.  She felt uncomfortable with all the attention she received when they went anywhere, especially as a trio, but it was unavoidable.  She had just stepped up onto the pedestal to be measured when the bell over the door rang, signaling another customer.  Hermione barely stopped her jaw from dropping when Malfoy walked through the door.

///

A united front.  That’s what his mother had told them they would show the rest of wizarding world they were when they showed up in Diagon Alley.  He knew that no one would want the Malfoys around.  They had been hated before the war and he could only imagine how they would be received now.  A shudder rolled through Draco.

_He pulled the letter out and placed the envelope on the table.  With shaky hands he hoped his mother couldn’t see, he unfolded the letter.  He read over it slowly, taking in everything it said.  They told him what classes he would have, what books and instruments he would need, and then they explained why they had bothered sending him a letter in the first place.  They wanted him to get a second chance.  They knew others thought he didn’t deserve it, but given what they’d seen in Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s memories, it seemed he might deserve it.  They wanted him to be Head Boy.  They wanted him to. . ._

_Draco had to reread the last few lines of the letter again.  Head Boy.  They wanted him to be Head Boy.  Were they_ completely _barmy?  He didn’t deserve Head Boy.  He didn’t even deserve the second chance they were giving him.  He read further on in the letter reading the explanation for their decision._

While my decision may seem brash, I made it for two very specific reasons.  First, I want to show the rest of the students that those of us who stood with Potter and the Order have forgiven you, that we have high hopes for you.  We want the students to see that we are giving you a chance to redeem yourself in their eyes as well as ours.  Second, I want to promote the idea that blood status is irrelevant in Hogwarts and the rest of the       wizarding world.  I would also like it if you, along with your counterpart could help demonstrate that all of the houses should get along amicably, not the way they’ve gotten along before.  Mr. Malfoy, you were not my first choice for Head Boy, but after careful consideration I decided that you would be best suited to work with the Head Girl I have selected to work towards these goals.

            Sincerely,

            Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

_Draco let the letter slip from his fingers and fall to the table.  As if he was moving through molasses, he reached for the envelope and upended it over his open palm.  Sure enough, the Head Boy pin fell into his palm.  He looked up at his mother with wide eyes._

Being around all those people, people who hated the Malfoys now more than ever, made his skin crawl.  Since the end of the war, he hadn’t been around many people.  He preferred the solitude of his room at the manor to the company of the people he had once called his friends.  He shook his head.  _What friends_ , he thought bitterly.  Crabbe had died because of him, and now he and Goyle could hardly be called friends.  Draco knew that Crabbe and Goyle had been the closest to each other in their little group, it was no wonder that with Crabbe dead that Goyle no longer wanted anything to do with him.  He was sure Goyle hated him, and he knew he deserved it.  Any other person he’d spent any measure of amicable time with at Hogwarts no longer seemed appealing to him.  Most all of his companions had also been Death Eaters but they, unlike him, had joined without a doubt weighing on their minds, and he couldn’t stand to be around them anymore.  He had spent the whole summer in self-imposed exile in his room, and now because school would be starting he’d have to leave his sanctuary and mingle with others again.

When they arrived in Diagon Alley, they had gone unnoticed for the span of a few precious seconds.  Once people realized who they were, silence fell wherever they went.  Sure they’d been pardoned, but they were still one of the families that had followed Voldemort to the end.  None of them knew how he hated letting his father and the other Death Eaters mark him.  They didn’t know the immeasurable guilt he felt, that he’d let the Death Eaters into the castle and ultimately been the reason Dumbledore died.  He felt filthy.  He wished he could scrub the wickedness right off, but nothing would take the dark blot off his soul.

They could hardly take five steps without someone glaring at them or whispering foul things to other bystanders as they passed.  No matter what changed, he and his mother would always be hated by these people.  _Why not give them what they so desperately want?  Why not give them someone to hate?  Show them that I’m still that foul little prat I always was?_ Draco mused angrily.  He sneered at everyone he passed.  If they were going to hate him he might as well give them what they wanted.  He knew that not a single one of them could hate him as much as he hated himself.

They made their way down the alley, purchasing everything he would need for school in a couple of weeks. “. . . and of course we won’t need to get you new robes.  You still have the ones I got you sixth year hanging in your closet, right?” she was saying.

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling the anxiety start to swell again.  He had never wanted to tell his mother what he’d done to his robes once he’d returned to Malfoy Manor after Dumbledore’s death.

“Erm, no.  The thing is, after erm, what happened on the Astronomy Tower, I came home and, ah, burned my robes.  I didn’t think I would ever be going back to Hogwarts after that so I figured I didn’t need them,” he managed.  Not to mention, he wanted as few reminders as possible of that year; it had been one of the most difficult years of his life.

She stopped in her tracks, pressing her lips together as she eyed him carefully.

“I’m sorry.  I _know_ I didn’t hear you correctly.  I know you were raised getting everything you wanted whenever you wanted, no matter what, but I did not just hear you say you burned your Hogwarts robes _on a whim,_ ” she replied in a terrifyingly calm manner.

Draco couldn’t look her in the eye and squirmed uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.  His silence was apparently all the confirmation she needed. 

He knew his mother would be furious that they were going to have buy new robes, considering he’d only destroyed the last ones because he really had thought he’d never be returning to Hogwarts again, but the fact that he was going to be Head Boy had seemed to have taken some of the edge off of the irritation he’d anticipated.  He knew that even if he still had his old robes that they would have purchased new ones anyway.  Even being a Malfoy, becoming Head Boy was an honor. 

He’d spent the day before pondering who his counterpart would be.  If McGonagall had any brains at all it would be Hermione, an idea that both thrilled and sickened him.  If Hermione was Head Girl, maybe he’d be able to show her that he was a changed man; that he wasn’t that same wretch he’d been before.  On the other hand, he was faced with being with her for more time than he’d ever been before, and if the dreams had been bad during the summer, he could only imagine how they’d be when he was around her so much.  Much to his utter horror, he groaned with frustration.  His mother turned to look at him and arched an eyebrow at him as if to ask what was wrong with him.

Draco felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.  Someone was watching him.  It didn’t feel like someone was trying to burn holes in him with their eyes, so he turned his head to see who it was.  When his gaze latched onto Hermione, he almost couldn’t believe it.  She was looking at him, and it wasn’t with her typical look of disgust or hate; it almost seemed like she was looking at him with something akin to longing.  He couldn’t be for sure though, because almost as soon as he’d made eye contact she had quickly turned and strode into Madame Malkin’s.  Part of him thought she didn’t even know what store she’d walked into as he watched her through the window.  As soon as she’d made it inside, she’d pulled up short and shook her head.

It seemed he couldn’t escape her.  She haunted his dreams, both sleeping and awake, and now he was going to be in the same shop as her for who knew how long.  He couldn’t help but feel thrilled. 

“I’ll be right back, Mum.  I’m going to go get fitted for my robes.” Draco said, hoping Narcissa wouldn’t insist on joining him.  She’d always been able to see right through him when it came to his feelings concerning the opposite sex.  He also wasn’t sure where she stood on the whole muggleborn thing.  He had never been sure if she actually bought into the pureblood superiority bit, or if she just went along with it because Lucius made her.

“Go ahead, dear,” she replied, tiredly.  “Do you think you can manage the rest of your shopping on your own?  I feel exhausted and I think I’m going to return to the manor.”

 _Uh, no I can’t manage on my own,_ thought Draco, desperately.  He was having a hard enough time being among all this hostility with her around; he wasn’t sure how he’d fare alone.  He looked over at his mother though, and could see how tired she looked.  She hadn’t been sleeping well since his father had been thrown into Azkaban.  She’d always looked so young, but in the past months, he noticed there were more fine lines on her face, and that her hair was shot through with strands of silver.  He felt guilty even considering asking her to stay.  He knew that _she_ had always loved him, no strings attached, burnt robes and all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he answered softly.

She smiled up at him, softly laid her hand on his cheek, and then headed back the way they’d come.  He rolled his shoulders to relieve some tension, and headed into Madame Malkin’s.  When he stepped into the store, he looked over to the pedestals and saw that Hermione was about to be measured for her robes.  Her head whipped around when she heard the bell over the door ring, and her eyes fairly bugged out of her head.  He couldn’t help but take in her appearance.  She looked so much healthier than the last time he’d seen her.  Her skin fairly glowed, and she’d filled out again.  She’d been so thin when he’d seen her at the battle.  And her hair it was no longer a frizzy, brown bush that hung around her shoulders, it had calmed down, and was now wavy and a lovely golden brown that matched her eyes.

“Hello, Miss Granger,” he drawled, smirking.

“Malfoy,” she bit out, before turning to face forward again.

Maybe showing her he wasn’t a Death Eater was going to be harder than he had anticipated.  He wanted to try talking to her more, but looking at her standing ramrod straight and stiff, he thought he’d be better off keeping to himself.  Madame Malkin came shuffling back over and gave Draco a fierce look.  Draco had felt the panic he’d relieved some of clawing at his throat as he’d been walking down the street, but it had been tempered by the knowledge that his mother was there and she at least was on his side.  Now, though, he was completely alone and the panic was wrapping around his chest like a vice, and he wasn’t sure how long he could manage acting normal before he had a full on panic attack—even after the workout he’d given himself this morning.

As soon as his mother was out of the room with the news, he’d raced back to his bedroom where he could fall apart in peace.  Once he was in his room he’d cast a silencing spell and screamed at the top of his lungs, pulling on his hair.  While the scream had managed to do away with some of the stress and tension, it hadn’t alleviated all of it.  He’d needed another outlet.  Draco had started pacing back and forth, too keyed up to be still and tried taking deep breaths while he paced, but that didn’t seem to help; told himself to calm down, but to no avail.  Finally an idea had occurred to him; he had always felt good and at peace when he was flying, or when he was doing something physically exerting.  Some of the anxiety had even fled his system in the short run to his room.  He all but threw himself on the floor and began doing countless pushups and sit ups.  The anxiety lessened to the point that it was finally bearable. 

He hadn’t known how long he’d been exercising, but it had been long enough that his long sleeved, grey button up was drenched in sweat. Unbuttoning it, Draco had thrown it on the floor as he sat down on the edge of his bed.  He wasn’t even at Hogwarts yet and he was already terribly worked up about it.  He didn’t know how he was ever going to survive when he actually got there.  How would he deal with these attacks and the nightmares he had when he was going to be sharing a dormitory with the Head Girl?  Granted, they’d be separated by the common room, but still?  How would he be able to hide them?  And Diagon Alley?  How was he ever going to deal with _that_?  Being around so many people, surrounded by so many sounds and noises was sure to cause him some sort of anxiety.  Sure to lead to some kind of attack.  He had to learn to deal with this before he got back to Hogwarts.

“Well, dear, what type of robes do you need this year?” Malkin questioned him, shaking him from the memories of the panic from earlier.  It was obvious that she wasn’t thrilled to see him, but it seemed that she was willing to be courteous and sociable, unlike so many of the other shop keepers had been.  As soon as he realized that the tone of her voice was friendly, even though it was grudgingly, he felt the tightening around his chest start to ease.

“Just normal school robes, this year.  My old robes met an, ah, _unfortunate_ end, and I’m Head Boy this year, so I can’t just go around wearing robes that aren’t perfect.”  Draco responded evenly.  He’d thrown in the bit about Head Boy to see how Hermione would react.  He looked at her as Madame Malkin directed him up onto a pedestal so her tape measure could take his measurements.  Hermione had paled a little at that statement and she turned her head to face him.

“ _You’re_ the Head Boy this year?”


	3. Chapter 3

He turned his head, so he could look at her.

“No, Granger.  I just said that for the fun of it,” he said jokingly. 

She made an irritated noise in the back of her throat as she pinched her lips together.

“Why do you ask?  You wouldn’t happen to be Head Girl, would you?”  he asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“As a matter of fact, yes.  I am Head Girl this year,” she replied without looking at him.

His heart leapt within his chest, before it started pounding wildly.  She _was_ the Head Girl.  This meant that they would be sharing a dormitory.  His letter had mentioned that the Heads would have separate rooms on opposite sides of a shared common room, and that they would both have to use the same bathroom.  He’d been worrying about how to hide his PTSD from whoever the Head Girl was, but that it was Granger made it seem like it would be that much more difficult.

///

 

Draco was the Head Boy.  How had she never even considered that to be a possibility?!  She could hardly stand still for the rest of her measuring, and was thrilled when Madame Malkin told her she could leave.  She leapt from the pedestal and walked to the door as quickly as she could.  She had planned on leaving without saying anything to Draco, but when her hand touched the cold door handle, she found the she had the urge to say something, anything to him.  She turned around and looked at the man that had been haunting her dreams.  She couldn’t help but admire his sharp profile and the proud, self-assured way that he held himself.  She found her thoughts straying to his white blonde hair and wondering if it was actually as soft as it was in her dreams.  She shook herself from her daydreams and cleared her throat.  Draco turned his head and pinned her there with his luminous, grey eyes.  He arched an inquisitive brow at her.

“I’ll see you on the first.  I hope the rest of your holiday goes well,” she said softly.  She turned again to leave when she was overcome with the overwhelming urge to say something else.

“Since the Heads are in charge of the Prefects, perhaps we should write each other until we meet on the Hogwarts Express to discuss how we’re going to pair the prefects for monitoring rotations,” she said as calmly as she could.  Telling Malfoy he could correspond with her was terrifying.  She liked to think that she had only opened the door to such communication because she wanted them to help make things run smoothly, but a small part of her knew that she wanted to see if he was as intelligent and funny as he was in her dreams.  She should have waited for a response, but instead she opened the door and left.  She had promised Harry and Ron to meet them at Fortescue’s for ice cream before they had to return to the Burrow, and she could only imagine what they must be thinking with her having taken so long.

By the time she got to Fortescue’s, the two had already eaten most of their ice cream.  She went to the counter and ordered plain vanilla.  Once she had obtained her treat, she dropped into the chair by Ron.

“We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten sidetracked in Flourish and Blotts again,” Ron said, grinning and elbowing her in the side. 

“Yeah, Hermione, what took so long?”  Harry asked.

Hermione licked at her ice cream, and thought about how to tell them that Draco Malfoy was to be Head Boy this year.  She imagined it wouldn’t go well any way she told them, but she knew that they would find out sooner or later and she’d rather she heard from her.  She also pondered how she was going to explain the letters she may receive if she didn’t just tell them the whole thing now.  Her drive to be honest got the better of her, and she told them everything that had happened while she’d been off on her own.  By the end of her tale, Ron was red faced and irritable, while Harry was scowling, but appeared to be lost in thought.

“Why would McGonagall pick that lousy git to be Head Boy alongside you?”  Ron fumed.

“Well, I imagine that she wanted to show the rest of the school that she as well as us believe that he isn’t so bad, and she probably wants there to be inter-house mingling and peace.”  Hermione replied calmly.

Ron mumbled darkly to himself and Harry nodded.

“I think you’re right, Hermione.  McGonagall is no Dumbledore, but she’s not stupid.  She probably does want the rest of the school to be more open and accepting of the Slytherins, and she figures if anyone can spearhead that, it would be you.  I do think it’s a little barmy to have chosen him after everything that happened the past few years, but since it was my memories that helped clear his name concerning Dumbledore’s murder, I don’t really think I have any room to disagree with her,” Harry provided thoughtfully.

“I think it’s stupid that you told him he could write to you, ‘Mione.  I mean, why do you need to be going over Head business before you even board the train?”  Ron asked crossly.

“Ronald,” Hermione started, reproachfully.  “You know very well why.  I want to do a good job as—”

She was suddenly cut off as Ron mashed his lips against hers.  She couldn’t understand why he was suddenly kissing her, when he’d barely had the nerve to hold her hand all summer.  Their relationship wasn’t going how she thought it would.  She couldn’t help but feel disappointed, but this was just completely confusing.  She pushed against his chest and finally managed to wrench herself away from him.  She was about to rail at him for being a pig when her eyes caught a flash of white blonde that could only mean one thing.

Draco Malfoy passed by, and gave a small nod to their little group.  Ron ignored him, but Harry and Hermione returned the gesture.  When he had passed, she turned to Ron, seething.

“Ron.  Please tell me you didn’t just try to forcibly snog me when you’ve been too bashful to kiss me all summer, just because Malfoy was coming this way.”

Ron’s ears were turning pink and she knew she’d hit her mark.

“I just don’t want him getting any ideas when you two are at school in your own private dormitory.  I want him to know that you’re mine.”  Ron mumbled.

“That I’m _yours_?  Like I’m your possession.  Wow, Ronald.  Thank you for that.  We all know that Malfoy wouldn’t be the least bit interested in me!  He would never stoop so low as to sully himself by being interested in a ‘mudblood,’ most specifically me!” she ground out.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Ron tried lamely.  Harry looked like he wanted to melt into his chair.  _The guy can face Voldemort no problem, but he can’t deal with his friends having a tiff_ , Hermione thought bemusedly.  Before they could delve any farther into the situation, Ginny flounced up and announced that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were ready to go home.  She bent down, kissed Harry’s cheek, grabbed his hand, and drug him off.  Hermione couldn’t help but notice the expressions of relief written all over his face.  Hermione looked over at Ron.  His face was pink and his expression downcast.  Maybe she’d reacted too harshly.  She reached out and laced her fingers through his and pulled him to his feet.  He looked down at her, his expression full of shame.  She stood on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“It’s okay, Ron.  I know you only meant well.”  She said as they walked in the same direction Harry and Ginny had gone. 

She looked at Ron and sighed.  How he could ever think that Draco Malfoy could be interested in her was beyond her mental capacity, but it didn’t matter.   She was his girlfriend and he had nothing to worry about.  She was determined that the rest of the summer would prove to Ron he need not worry.  Perhaps the end of the summer would have Ron brave enough to kiss her just because.  She smiled and put an extra skip in her step, causing Ron to stumble a little as they made their way back to the rest of his family.  By the time they returned to the Burrow their quarrel was forgotten and everything was normal, except for the great, tawny owl sitting on her bed clutching her first letter from Malfoy.

///

After getting measured for his new robes, Draco left Madame Malkin’s in a daze.  All he could think about was Hermione telling him they should correspond about the Prefects.  Thinking about how to start a letter to her, and how he could maybe begin his convincing this way drove him to distraction.  This time as he walked down the alley, he didn’t even care that people were glaring at him and hurling insults at his retreating form.  He nearly ran into three different people before he gave up and decided he should just Apparate home.  Once he was home, he went straight to his room and sat down at his desk.  Grabbing parchment and a quill he pondered what he should say.  Deciding to just try and be himself he went to work.

An hour later, Draco had started at least fifty different letters, each more ridiculous than the last.  _Maybe I should just let her send me and owl first_ , Draco thought, _but then she might think I’m irresponsible if I don’t contact her first since this was her idea.  I don’t want her to think I don’t care, that I’m not taking this seriously_.  Groaning, he crumpled up his most recent attempt at a letter.  How hard could it be to write a professional sounding letter and not come off sounding like a pompous jerk?  Granted, he pretty much always came off as a pompous jerk, but this time he didn’t want to.  He grabbed another piece of parchment and pulled it in front of him, and dipped his quill into the ink.  He took a deep breath and began again.

_Hermione,_

_I’m sure you’re less than thrilled to have to work with me this year, and I don’t blame you.  I know our relationship has been strained in the past and that we’ve always been on opposite sides, but I hope that this year we can work together and put the last few years behind us.  I don’t know what your thoughts are on Prefect rotations, but I thought that we could make the Prefects work with people that aren’t from their own house so that they can get to know people outside of their own circle and promote inter-house communication and cooperation.  I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the matter._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco folded up the letter and slipped it in an envelope.  He wrenched the door of Maleficent’s cage open and the owl hopped into the doorway of the cage, holding out its leg.  Draco attached the letter and carried her to the window.

“Get this letter away from here before I change my mind,” he muttered brusquely before releasing her.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione all but dropped her parcels when she saw the owl, and stopped moving abruptly.  Ginny ran into her back and sent her tripping towards the bird.  The great, tawny beast shifted uncertainly, but didn’t fly away in fright like Hermione expected.

“Whose owl is that?” Ginny inquired.

“Malfoy’s, I suppose,” Hermione replied absently, lowering herself to sit on the bed. She felt breathless.  She honestly hadn’t expected him to write her so soon, if at all.  Her pulse began to pick up; she felt nervous and excited, both of which were tempered with guilt.  She shouldn’t be excited to be hearing from the boy who did everything in his power to make her miserable as they were growing up.

“Malfoy?!  Why on earth would Malfoy be contacting you, Hermione?” Ginny gasped.

“He’s Head Boy,” Hermione replied, reaching to take the letter from the owl’s leg.  “We’re going to discuss our plans for the prefects over the summer so we’re prepared on the first.”

When no response came from Ginny, Hermione turned around.  Ginny was standing there staring at her with a look that she couldn’t quite decipher.  She hoped beyond hope that she’d never called out his name during one of her dreams, and if she had that Ginny had slept through it and wouldn’t be confronting her about it.  Something crossed Ginny’s face, and she shook her head, as if deciding against something. 

“That dirty, little ferret better toe the line concerning you, or he’ll have me to answer to!”  Ginny proclaimed boldly.

“I really don’t think that will be—,” Hermione started before Ginny cut her off.

“Save it!  I know what a prat he’s been to you in the past, and I know that you can handle yourself, and that you have Ron and Harry to back you up, but aside from Fleur,” Ginny shuddered, though not as much as she used to, “You are the closest thing to a sister I have and no one, I mean _no one_  is going to mess with you and get away with it.” 

With that, Ginny dropped her bags on her own bed, turned on her heel and flounced from the room.  Hermione smiled fondly after the younger girl, and shook her head.  Ginny was loyal to a fault, and Hermione had no doubt that she would follow through on her threats if Malfoy did anything untoward. 

Sighing, she ran a hand over her face.  She’d finally gotten the letter unattached from the owl during Ginny’s tirade, and now she looked down at it.  She felt so intimidated by this letter.  For all she knew it was full of venomous hatred, but the way he’d been at Madame Malkin’s had her hoping that perhaps he would have responded professionally.  He’d made a small jab at her, but nowhere near what he’d been like in previous years.  For all she knew, he was trying to look like he was trying to be more amicable in public, but in the privacy of a letter he could be a heinous beast again.  _What am I thinking?  Didn’t I just reprimand Harry and Ron for not giving him a second chance?_   Steeling herself, she looked at the letter with determination; no matter what it said or how he acted she would remain professional.  Maybe he would even surprise her.  She bit her lip as she flipped it over and slid her finger under the flap of the envelope until it opened, and proceeded to pull out the letter.  She read over it slowly, making sure to consider everything he said. 

She couldn’t lie, she was surprised when she got to, “ _I hope that this year we can work together and put the last few years behind us_.”  It sounded like he actually wanted to work together, to put the past behind them.  She wanted to trust him, knew that McGonagall wouldn’t have teamed them up if she didn’t think things would work out, but still, she felt wary.  How could years of conditioning to hate muggleborns just suddenly go up in smoke in such a manner that he was willing to work affably with her? 

She struggled internally over whether or not to trust this new, reformed version of him as she wrote back.

_Malfoy,_

_Thank you for your prompt correspondence.  I think that your idea about mixing house prefects is a good one and would work wonderfully.  Perhaps we could even set it up on a rotation so that the same two people aren’t together the whole time.  That way, if two people don’t get along they won’t be stuck together the whole year.  I’m not going to lie, as I’m sure you noticed in Madame Malkin’s, I was shocked that you are Head Boy, but I think that if we both truly can put the past behind us and move on from that, that we can present a united front.  I propose that we attempt to get to know each other over the remainder of the summer to try and make this work better._

_Cordially,_

_Hermione Granger_

Feeling confident about her letter, she calmly slipped it into an envelope, attached it to Malfoy’s owl’s leg, and sent it on its way before she really had time to ponder what she had written and rewrite it fifty times.  Exhausted, she flopped backwards onto the bed and succumbed to sleep.

///

They were tangled up on the couch in the common room, kissing each other like they needed the other to live.  It had started out innocently enough; they’d both been reading, when Draco had caught her staring again.  After tossing his book aside, he plucked her book from her hands and tackled her into the cushions.  She’d giggled and squealed and had pretended to protest, but he knew all too well that she couldn’t get enough of him.  Soon enough, the giggles and squeals turned into sighing the other’s name.  At some point, Draco had moved from her lips to her neck, to that place just under her ear that she loved when he kissed.  After a few minutes more, she broke the kiss and gazed up into his eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered, moving her gaze from his face down to his chest. 

“Well I know I’m in love with you ‘Mione.” He said rather giddily.

Hermione stiffened and slowly looked up at him.  She was no longer looking at her handsome Slytherin; she was looking up at Ron. 

The pure shock and horror, had her shooting up in bed.  She pushed the hair up out of her face and let out a long sigh.  This was getting to be too much for her.


End file.
